


Winds of Seasons

by supersinger472



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: One Shot, Other, Semi-Slow Burn, shirtless wood chopping, they kiss at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersinger472/pseuds/supersinger472
Summary: Throndir and Red Jack spent years together at the last university, sharing lots of little moments that might have gone unremarked, but they added up to something much greater in the end.





	Winds of Seasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smooth_operaptor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooth_operaptor/gifts).



                It’s a sweet spring day. A gentle wind blows through the fields around the Last University, causing the grass to ripple like waves at sea, and bringing with it the smell of fresh mown grass and blooming flowers. Throndir steps outside and stretches their arms out above their head with a pleased groan, turning their face to the sun to soak in the warmth. After a winter of being shut in, it’s good to have a reminder that no matter how bad things might be, the sun will come again.

                “Enjoying yourself?” A deep voice sounds from behind them.

                Throndir whips their head around, but relaxes when they see it’s just Red Jack, holding a small basket made from woven grasses of different colors that give it an interesting looking pattern. “What’s in the basket?” They ask without thinking.

                Red Jack lifts the basket and one eyebrow, a secretive smile crossing his face, “care to find out?”

                “Sure, I’m not busy.”

                “No, you’re clearly not.” Red Jack laughs as he turns and walks out to the field, plowing through the tall grass that sprouted up seemingly overnight, and towards a small wooden glen. Throndir trailing behind him like a duckling.

                “Red Jack, what’s all this about? Why are we so far out? There’s nothing even out here.”

                “Ain’t you the ranger? Shouldn’t you know what’s out in your own woods?”

                Throndir feels a pang of regret, the woods are filled with animal life, but it all treats him with cold aloofness, like he’s not apart of the same world anymore. “Things change Red Jack, you of all people should know that.”

                “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But that’s not important right now.” He reaches into the basket and pulls out a handful of green branches and a piece of flint. He piles the branches in a small pyramid, glances at something only he can see, then moves the whole pile forward several inches before striking the flint and starting a small, smoky fire. “If I give the signal, run for the hills.”

                “What’s the signal?”

                Rather than answer, Red Jack waves at the smoke with his large hands, then jumps up and runs for a nearby tree, reaching up in the branches and returning with a small beehive, a few dazed bees crawling around the surface.

                “A beehive? What the hell are you doing?”

                Red Jack shushes them sharply and gestured with his head at the basket, “there’s a bowl and a knife in there, grab them for me.”

                Perplexed, Throndir obeys, grabbing a wide, shallow bowl, and an oddly square knife.

                “Hold the bowl under the hive,” Red Jack carefully takes the knife from them and holds it poised above the hive.

                “I don’t think this is a good idea,” they say, even as they move the bowl into position.

                “Relax, I’ve done this before.”

                “How many times has it worked?”

                “I think statistics are an overrated field.” He lifts the knife and cracks the hive neatly in two, setting half of it aside and scraping thick honeycomb out into the bowl, sleepy bees flying out of the way. With a triumphant grin Red Jack takes the bowl from Throndir and dips his finger in, watching the way the honey drips from it for a second before sticking it in his mouth, humming happily. “Delicious! Grab the basket, let’s get out of here before the bees get mad.” He gets to his feet and dumps a canteen of water over the fire, putting it out and walking away towards the field.

                Throndir watches him walk away in shock for a moment before grabbing the basket and chasing after him. “What was all that?”

                Red Jack grins over his shoulder and waves the bowl around, “honey collecting!”

                “I know that! Why’d you do it?”

                Red Jack stops in his tracks and sticks the bowl under Throndir’s face. “Have a taste.”

                Against their better judgement, Throndir sets the basket down and dips a finger into the bowl, sticking it in their mouth with a wince. The moment the honey touches their tongue though, their eyes grow wide, and they eagerly lick the honey up. “It’s amazing!”

                “Nothing beats fresh harvested.” Red Jack drops to the ground and opens the basket, pulling out a loaf of bread and a large chunk of ham.

                Throndir sits down next to him, “where’d you get all that?”

                “I have my ways,” Red Jack says with a wink that causes Throndir to fluster a bit. “Don’t worry about it too much.” He pulls the knife out and slices a piece of bread and ham, slathering them up with honey and handing the whole thing off to Throndir.

                Throndir gives him a suspicious look, exactly what ways does he mean? But they’re too excited to have more honey to worry about it too much and takes a big bite. The sweetness of the honey meets the savory taste of the ham, which is chewy in contrast to the soft bread, which is still warm enough to melt the honey slightly. Before they know it, they’ve finished off the whole piece, and are reaching out to help themselves to more breakfast.

                “It’s good, right?” Red Jack has his own piece by now, which he raises in a toast as

“Delicious,” Throndir says around a mouthful of food.

He gives them a sticky sweet grin, the kind that you have no choice to smile back at, even as Throndir wants to lean in and kiss the honey off his lips, taste the difference between honey and tongue.

                But they hold back, and lick their fingers clean, before tearing off another piece of soft bread and flopping back into the flowers, watching the birds and the fat bumblebees fly overhead, adrift in a sea of wildflowers. They close their eyes and feel something soft and warm brush their cheek.

                “You good?” Red Jack asks quietly.

                Throndir hums contentedly and nods, “this is perfect.” They mumble. “Just leave me here forever.”

                Red Jack chuckles, “maybe not forever, but I have no problem with sticking around for a while longer.” There’s a sound that’s probably him lying down, and the two of them spend a long time in companionable silence, occasionally sitting up to grab another piece of bread or bite of honey, until the sun starts to drop, and the light takes on a warm golden glow like the entire sky has been painted with honey.

 

 

                It’s the high heat of summer. The sun beats down on the people, making them irritable and snappy, the kind of heat that makes you itch when you sweat.

                Throndir sits inside, sipping water, because the relief of the shade barely managed to outweigh the humidity and stale air. Distantly they heard a rhythmic tapping. At first it was merely interesting, then it got boring, and quickly the sound became annoying and grating and the worst sound ever and if Throndir had to listen to that insufferable tapping for a moment longer they’d go insane. They jump up and stomp out of the building, determined to put a stop to it.

                They follow the sound of that infuriating tapping, idly fanning themselves as they round the corner of the old collapsing wall to see Red Jack chopping wood, and they stop dead in their tracks, the heat momentarily forgotten.

                He’s stripped off his shirt, giving Throndir a view of his back muscles flexing as he lifts the axe above his head and brings it down on a chunk of wood.

                That familiar tapping sound breaks Throndir out of their stupor, and they quickly shake their head as they storm up to Red Jack. “Excuse me?”

                “Throndir!” Red Jack smiles as he turns to face them, a bead of sweat trailing down his neck and between his chest muscles.

                “What’s going on out here? They can hear you all the way to the moon!”

                “Is it that loud? My bad, it just seemed like a good idea to chop some lumber.”

                “Why exactly did that seem like a good idea? It’s way too hot for that!”

                “You know me, I can hardly feel this kind of heat.” He gestures broadly to indicate the summer in general.

                “Well everyone else is, so knock it off.”

                “If it’s that important I guess it can wait until tomorrow.” With a slightly hurt expression, Red Jack leans down and grabs his shirt, pulling it on over his head, the light fabric clinging to his sweat sticky chest.

                “Can it at least wait until the heat wave passes?” The sight of Red Jack in a shirt clinging to his muscles is just as distracting as the sight of him shirtless.

                “You can’t just put this kind of thing off though, work needs to be done, the buildings need to get shored up before fall storms, and we need fuel for the winter.”

                Throndir rakes a hand through their hair, “I know, I know, I’m just feeling snappy because of the heat.”

                “You being a vampire and all, I would have thought it wouldn’t bother you as much.” Red Jack grins and leans on his axe.

                “Something that bothers everyone else, bothers me.” Throndir hasn’t been feeling the heat nearly as much as they’ve felt the general negative energy radiating off of the people. “So please keep your woodcutting down for the next few days.”

                “Like I said, word needs doing.”

                “Then I’ll help you! Just be quiet for a while,” with a grimace, Throndir rubs their forehead and goes back inside to press their face against the slightly cooler stone walls.

               

 

                Winter is pressing in around the walls of the Last University. The skies are dark, heavy clouds blocking even the light of the moon. Wind whips at the windows of the Outhouse and rattles them in their panes, snow swirling around so thick outside it’s impossible to see more than a few inches outside.

                Throndir and Red Jack are the only two people sitting in the main common room, cross-legged in front of the fireplace, as close as is possible to get without sitting in the fire proper in an attempt to warm up after a desperate dash through the snowstorm to get to shelter. They’d grabbed some dinner and their plates are set to the side now, forgotten as their small talk gradually fades out, replaced by comfortable silence.

                “Well, go ahead.”

                Throndir turns to look up at Red Jack, who’s staring into the fire. The dancing red flames making his skin look jeweled and luminescent, like he’s a statue instead of a person, an old god immortalized in ruby rather than a person sitting close enough for Throndir to feel his warmth. “Pardon?”

                “Go ahead, do your vampire thing.”

                “I don’t think you really get what that entails.”

                “So, explain it to me.”

                Throndir lets out a perplexed laugh. “Believe me, I want to understand it just as much as you do. It’s just not something I can easily explain, they didn’t exactly give me a manual.”

                “Fine, then I don’t need an A to Z on vampirism for me to help you out. You’ve been…quiet lately, distant and cold.”

                “Everyone’s cold, it’s winter.”

                Red Jack scoffs, he’s looming over Throndir and there are shadows cast on his face, “not what I mean, and you know it.”

                “I’m serious. The vampire thing is about feeding on life, and the current vibe of the life here is miserable. People are cold and sick and they’re sick of being cooped up in stone walls.”

                “So, what you’ve got going is a kind of concentrated version of the vibe of this whole place?”

                “Yeah, pretty much.”

                There’s a brief pause, and Red Jack’s normally booming voice is quiet and low, “sounds like you’ve got the short end of the stick here.”

                Throndir shrugs, “it is what it is, ultimately, I prefer living like this to being dead. I roll with the punches as they come.”

                “Maybe what you need is to get some warmth injected into you.” Red Jack’s voice has taken on a teasing tone, and the fire glints off his sharp teeth.

                Throndir shakes their head, “what the hell does that mean?”

                “It means this.” Suddenly a big hand is clasped around Throndir’s face, and warm lips are pressed against theirs, and Throndir is warm, for the first time in years they’re truly warm again, and they’re matching Red Jack’s heat with passion of their own, wrapping their arms around his neck and pulling him close.

                The longer the kiss goes Throndir can feel the energy flowing out of Red Jack and into them, happiness and pleasure and laughter, concentrated in one strong burst, drinking straight from the tap instead of feeding in drips from the entire community over months. They pull away first, staring up into Red Jack’s eyes, which are glassy and dim, but there’s a broad grin on his face.

                “Well, that was certainly a doozy,” he wobbles a bit and catches himself with one hand, letting out a laugh as if he’s surprised by the act of being tired.

                “Oh my god, are you okay?” Throndir hesitantly places a hand on Red Jack’s chest, which is still warm and steady beneath their palm.

                Red Jack reaches up and catches Throndir’s hand, holding it against his chest. “It’s fine, it’ll take more than that to knock me out for good. But I am a little hurt.”

                “I’m so sorry, I should have asked properly. I shouldn’t have even done that.”

                “It’s not that,” a broad grin splits Red Jack’s face. “I’m hurt that I kissed you and all you can think about is feeding from me. Am I really that out of practice?”

                “Oh! No, the kiss was fine! It was more than fine actually, no complaints!”

                Red Jack laughs, “are you sure? Because I’d definitely be open to practicing more at it.”

                A small smile crosses Throndir’s face as they stare down at him, “I’d be open to that too. Real kissing, not for feeding’s sake.” They gently press on Red Jack’s chest until he’s lying flat beside the fire and leans over him to give him another gentle kiss, smiling against his lips and fangs.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Secret Samol, check out my tumblr at mpregnateyourocs and my twitter @SweenMaxine


End file.
